


From Now on, Our Troubles Will be Miles Away

by JackEPeace



Category: Barely Lethal (2015)
Genre: Christmas!, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Liz continues, “Christmas probably isn’t a big thing at spy school.”Megan takes a bite of her bagel. “No, definitely not.” She ignores the way Liz rolls her eyes at the fact that Megan is talking with her mouth full. “I mean I didn’t even know what Christmas was until I watched Clueless.”-or-The 5 time Liz used Christmas as an excuse to get close to Megan and the one time she didn't need to.





	From Now on, Our Troubles Will be Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> I've really missed writing for this ship so...ta da! Christmas! This is mostly a Christmas present to myself because I love them so much.
> 
> The title comes from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and I really wanted to call this fic "Make the Yuletide Gay" because I think I'm funny but I settled on the next line instead...
> 
> Also this fic is inspired by no-snow-ever-Christmas-in-Georgia. It was 60 degrees today. I'm just telling you.




“You would think over time that you would become _less_ of a freak. But I think you just get more and more like an alien every day.”

Liz Larson makes this observation over breakfast the first day of December, when suddenly everything is all about Christmas.

For the next twenty-five days anyway.

Megan hardly bats an eyelash at Liz’s comment, no longer looking like a confused, wounded puppy whenever Liz makes a note of her inescapable oddness. There’s no malice in Liz’s voice, not anymore, and Liz knows that Megan knows this, hence the shrug and the undeterred spreading of cream cheese on a bagel. Though, Parker is suddenly looking at Megan with renewed interest, squinting his eyes at her as he takes a drink of his orange juice. Liz can practically hear the thought running through his mind: _a spy and an alien?_ According to Parker, stranger things have happened.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Liz continues, trying to focus more on Megan’s impossible strangeness and not the way that her bracelets move up and down Megan’s wrists as she moves her hands.

Just like Liz is trying _not_ to focus on how it might feel to press her lips to the skin of Megan’s wrists and thread their fingers together.

“Christmas probably isn’t a big thing at spy school.”

Megan takes a bite of her bagel. “No, definitely not.” She ignores the way Liz rolls her eyes at the fact that Megan is talking with her mouth full. “I mean I didn’t even know what Christmas was until I watched _Clueless_.”

Parker sighs. “That’s so depressing,” he says solemnly.

“So what’s the big deal?” Megan questions, looking at Liz. “What do we do, anyway?”

“We get two weeks off school,” Parker replies.

Liz ignores him. “We get to decorate and put up lights and ornaments. And there’s caroling…and presents, of course.”

And sure, there’s the whole _reason_ for Christmas, with the manger and the star and all that, but Liz figures that Megan is probably beyond that aspect of ‘teenage normalcy’ and just needs to get straight to the heart of the issue.

Megan nods, processing the words. “Caroling.”

She repeats the word with just enough of a lilt that Liz can tell it’s a question.

Liz sighs, leaning back in her chair. “See. Completely alien.”

But that doesn’t stop Liz from pulling out her headphones when they’re on the bus fifteen minutes later. She really misses her car. Even though the whole epic car chase and resulting crash wasn’t her fault in the slightest, her mother has still insisted on punishing her by refusing to replace the car and reminding Liz of exactly why she hates the idea of public transportation.

Though, with Megan sitting in the seat next to her, it really isn’t _so_ bad. Of course, Megan still hasn’t lost the joy of the teenage experience, but Liz can’t bring herself to enjoy riding the bus _that_ much.

“Here.” Liz hands Megan one of the ear buds, putting the other one in her ear. This requires her shoulder to be pressed against Megan’s, their knees brushing with every movement. But Liz refuses to look at her, to acknowledge their closeness, staring down at her phone. “It’s time to start your education.”

Megan doesn’t seem to have any problem staring at Liz, her nose practically against Liz’s cheek. “Is this about Christmas again?”

“You need to know at least some of the songs in order to blend in,” Liz points out. “Pretty sure they have Christmas in Vagina.”

“Regina,” Megan corrects with a smirk.

Liz peers at Megan out of the corner of her eye. “Whatever.” But she’s biting the inside of her mouth to stop from smiling.

Megan smells like violets and this close, there’s no way that Liz can even hope to ignore the fact that she recognizes the smell of Megan’s shampoo and lotion and that she smells so much better than the rest of the dirty, sweaty, oily bus. The fragrance tickles Liz’s nose as she plays “Silent Night” on her phone and it’s even harder to ignore the heat of Megan’s body against her own.

It’s only when Megan closes her eyes that Liz lets herself chance a look in Megan’s direction, trying not to move too much and risk pulling the earbuds free. Megan has a hint of a smile on her lips and Liz tries to remember the first time she heard this song, if it made her smile, if it made everything else fade away.

Probably not. She’s pretty sure all non-spies are just born knowing these songs.

When it’s over, Megan opens her eyes and Liz doesn’t look away fast enough to avoid staring directly into Megan’s eyes. “That was pretty. You should play it again.”

Liz shakes her head. “Nope. We’ve got too many songs on our agenda to get through. You can defuse a bomb, but you don’t know the name of Santa’s reindeer and we’ve got to fix that.”

Megan tilts her head slightly, considering. “Santa is the one that brings the presents, right?”

Liz groans, slumping back against their shared seat. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Megan is smiling, nudging Liz with her shoulder. “I’m kidding. Totally know who Santa is.”

Liz isn’t sure that she entirely believes Megan but she’s going to let it slide.

This time.

Mostly because she doesn’t want to shrug and scowl and risk pushing Megan away from her.

Instead, she just plays another song, “Deck the Halls” this time, her head close to Megan’s.

So that they can share the earbuds, of course.

* * *

 

**2.**

That weekend, Penny forces Liz and Parker into the attic to retrieve the cardboard boxes stuffed with Christmas stuff. Liz grits her teeth against the memories of the last time these boxes were unpacked, of how it was their father up in the attic dragging everything down and singing carols off key as he untangled the lights for the tree.

Last year, her dad’s leaving was still too fresh, too painful, to invite much Christmas spirit. The ornaments and decorations had stayed in the attic and they’d only gotten a tree on Christmas Eve because it had occurred to Penny at the last minute that they didn’t have one. Even Parker hadn’t been full of too much merriment when they’d thrown on the lights from the Dollar Store and put a few brightly colored boxes underneath the dying needles.

But now…Liz feels less heavy as she passes the boxes to Parker. The boxes and the stuff inside still remind her of her father but not in a way that makes her want to throw them off the roof of the house.

Just in the way that she can pretend that any wetness in her eyes is because of dust and any irritation is because Penny has decided to exploit the child labor in the home instead of getting down the decorations herself.

When Liz carries down the last box, she’s not surprised to find that Megan is already on her knees in the living room, opening one of the boxes and pawing through the tissue paper. She holds up an old ornament that Liz remembers making in kindergarten, a lopsided wreath made from alternating green and red beads.

“Oh wow.” Megan grins at her like she’s holding _Starry Night_ in her hands. “This is so cool.”

Liz huffs out a breath, sitting down across from her. “It’s not cool,” she grumbles. “It looks stupid. Put it back.”

But Megan ignores her, not doubt seeing through the pretense in her tone. “Look at this!” Megan holds up a construction paper frame with a picture of Liz inside. “Is that you?”

Liz snatches the picture away, ignoring the photo of the girl smiling back at her. A girl with white blonde hair, a missing front tooth, and two parents and no younger brother. “You don’t have to look at everything.”

“So I’m supposed to decorate the tree with my eyes closed?” Megan laughs at the idea. “That sounds like a Prescott challenge.”

Liz rolls her eyes. “No. Just…open another box. Find the normal ornaments.”

Ornaments that she didn’t make or didn’t buy with her father. Ornaments that she didn’t hang up two years ago with her father wearing a Santa hat, laughing as Parker tried to hang everything on the same branch.

Liz grits her teeth again, trying to ignore the lump in her throat, the sudden stinging in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Megan asks and Liz feels a flash of irritation. Penny and Parker are already trying to string up the lights but Megan seems to have eyes only for her.

Liz refuses to look up, digging through the box like it’s the only thing that matters. “Fine.”

Megan doesn’t seem entirely convinced but she doesn’t say anything else.

Parker soon abandons his attempts to string up the lights, coming to join Liz and Megan at the boxes. “Where are my ornaments?”

“I don’t know, Parker.” The words come out like a sigh, long-suffering and resigned.

Parker digs through the boxes, sending tissue paper flying. “We all have special ornaments,” he says and Liz assumes that he’s telling Megan all of this. “No one else is allowed to touch mine. We each have to hang up our own special ones.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Parker seems to realize his words, deflating slightly. “I mean…”

Liz lifts her eyes to look at Megan, trying to ignore how Megan is keeping a smile frozen on her face, even though it doesn’t reach her eyes. Because she doesn’t have any special, for Megan’s-hands-only ornaments in the boxes.

And she never has.

Liz feels that wave of irritation and something else, something deeper and sharper, pass through her again and she shoves the box in Megan’s direction. “Here you can hang them all up.”

Penny’s head whips in her direction, “Lizzie-”

“No, Mom, this is dumb. Do it without me.” Liz gets to her feet, ignoring Penny’s protests as she thunders up the stars.

Liz slams the door shut behind her, though it brings her little satisfaction. She grabs one of the blankets off her bed, pushing open her window and climbing out onto the roof. It’s still early enough in the month that there’s just a little bit of a chill in the air, a hint of winter more than winter itself, but Liz wraps the blanket around herself anyway.

It smells like Megan, which makes Liz want to throw the blanket off the roof while simultaneously pulling it tighter around her shoulders.

She settles on the latter.

Liz hears the sound of someone knocking on her door and then, seconds later, the sound of the door creaking open. Her annoyance disappears when she sees Megan climbing out onto the roof beside her.

“Sorry.”

Liz glares at her. “You didn’t do anything. Why are you apologizing?”

Megan shrugs. “You seemed…mad, I dunno. I know it’s probably annoying to have me hanging around, touching your stuff, asking all these questions about Christmas…”

Liz exhales, feeling her anger slip away. Though, she misses the heat of it when all that’s left is the sadness. “I miss my dad.” She says the words into the crook of her elbow, muffled by the blanket.

But she knows that Megan hears her anyway.

They’re both silent, the confession hanging between them in the not entirely cold December air. And then Megan says, “I wish I had an ornament in one of those boxes.”

One confession, traded for another.

Liz swallows, letting herself look at Megan. “We should probably go back.”

There’s no reason to say anything about the rest of it, the words settling there between them on the roof. Truths they both already knew about one another, anyway.

Megan shrugs one shoulder. “Probably.”

Liz feels her heart jump around in her chest, the sensation similar to the first drop on a roller coaster. Because, looking at Megan, she can tell that she wants to go back downstairs to help with the tree and all the other Christmas nonsense, but that she would also stay up there on that roof all day if Liz refused to move.

“Yeah.” Liz tells herself that she’s agreeing for Megan and for Parker and in the spirit of Christmas but she’s not entirely dreading going back, not now that she’s managed to say those words out loud. “I guess.”

Penny looks relieved to see Liz and Megan, but she doesn’t comment on it, instead directing Parker to fix this or that sting of lights and for Liz to find the star for the top of the tree.

Liz opens another one of the boxes, digging through the ornaments until she finds the one that she’s looking for. A kangaroo in a Christmas hat, the last ornament that she and her dad bought together, when Liz was fourteen and trying to ignore how things were already changing.

“Here.” Liz holds the ornament up for Megan to see. “You can have this one.”

Megan shakes her head. “I don’t need-”

“I’m giving it to you.” Liz reaches for Megan’s hand, turning her palm up. “I want you to have it. And then, next year, only you can hang it up.”

Next year.

Because that’s exactly what Liz wants. She wants for Megan to stay. She wants to do this again, wants to string up lights with Megan and unpack ornaments and listen to Christmas music while Penny tries not to be so controlling over where Parker hangs his ornaments.

She doesn’t want to have to miss someone else.

But Megan grins, reaching for the ornament. “Okay.”

Liz doesn’t pull her hand away, lets her fingers linger against Megan’s.

Just for a minute.

* * *

 

**3.**

“Lizzie! Get up!”

The words come about three seconds before Parker lunches himself directly into Liz’s stomach, which isn’t nearly enough of a warning. The air whooshes out of her and her eyes immediately prick with tears and Liz barely has enough strength left in her body to roll her body and toss Parker onto the bedroom floor.

“Parker,” she wheezes. “We’ve talked about this. You’re too big to do this.”

Parker hardly looks phased as he looks up at her from the floor.

“And _knock_.” Liz sits up, rubbing her stomach in an attempt to stop the aching. “What is wrong with you?”

Parker stands. “I want to make Christmas cookies.”

Liz glares at him. “You woke me up on a Saturday for _that_?”

“Megan told me to.” Parker says this quickly, defensively, like he already knows that invoking Megan’s name will keep Liz from tackling him back to the ground.

Liz hates how true this is.

“Mom went into the office and Megan said we could make cookies when you woke up.”

Liz glares at him. “ _When_.”

But Parker just smiles innocently. “You’re awake now.”

Unfortunately, this is all too true.

Liz gets out of bed, shooing Parker out of her room so that she can trade her sleep rumpled pajamas for a sweatshirt and jeans. On her way downstairs, she pulls her hair into a messy ponytail, stifling a yawn as she walks to the kitchen.

Megan is already there with Parker and there’s a collection of ingredients spread across the counter top and Liz can already feel the mess that she’s going to be responsible for cleaning up later.

Sometimes having Megan around is like having another kid sibling.

Not that Liz spends a lot of time thinking about Megan like a sister.

Especially not when Megan looking at her and smiling is enough to set off an explosion of butterflies in her belly. “Good morning.”

“You only think so because you weren’t body slammed by a ten-year-old.”

Megan looks at Parker. “You said she was already awake.”

Parker shrugs, cracking an egg on the side of the bowl. “Oops.”

Liz washes her hands, coming to take her place at the counter beside Megan. It doesn’t take long before the suspicion that has been nagging in the back of Liz’s mind is confirmed. “You’ve never baked before, have you?”

“I have never made Christmas cookies before.” It manages to sound both like a declaration and a side-stepping of the question.

Liz takes the bowl of lumpy, newly made cookie dough of the bowl. “Sprinkle some flour on the counter.”

Megan does and Liz drops the hunk of dough onto the counter top. She reaches for the bag of flour, smearing it on her hands before reaching for Megan’s palms and covering them with flour too. She imagines that the flour keeps her from feeling the warmth of Megan’s skin and that the tingling in her body is just from Parker jumping on her stomach earlier.

“Now we have to roll it out.”

The way that Megan attacks the dough definitely makes Liz glad that she’s never been on the opposite side of Megan Walsh and her Prescott School trained fists of death. “It’s not a punching bag,” she chides, trying not to smile. “It’s just…you want to be gentle.”

Megan doesn’t pull away when Liz covers her hands with her own, gently guiding Megan’s palms against the dough. Liz swallows, staring at the dough, hoping that her cheeks aren’t noticeably red. She feels like her entire body is on fire and can only pray that Megan and Parker can’t tell.

“Oh,” is all Megan says, “okay.”

But still, Megan doesn’t move her hands, doesn’t insist on doing it herself. She just lets Liz guide her fingers, lets Liz stay so close in her space that they’re nearly entwined. The dough flattens, growing sticky despite the flour, and Liz swallows again, finally pulling her hands away from Megan’s. “Like that.”

Megan nods but she’s looking at Liz instead of the dough and Liz looks away quickly, grabbing the sponge from out of the sink so she can start wiping off the counter tops.

She’s always the first one to look away whenever her eyes meet Megan’s.

She’s getting pretty good at it.

* * *

 

 

**4.**

Christmas is a week away and they’re still at school, listening to teachers drone on and preparing to take exams, which feels like cruel and unusual punishment as far as Liz is concerned.

Especially because being in school means that she still has put up with idiots like Gooch.

Gooch sidles up to the lab table where Liz and Megan are trying to fill out their study guides for Mr. Drumm’s exam. Liz pointedly ignores him, tightening her grip on her pencil.

Gooch pouts. “Not even a hello? That’s not very much in the Christmas spirt, Liz.”

Liz looks up at him, scowling. “What do you want, Gooch?”

Honestly, she can’t believe she ever let him put his tongue in her mouth.

Especially not when…

Suddenly Liz feels all too aware of Megan’s presence there beside her.

“Look what I found.” Gooch produces a leafy plant, tied with a festive red ribbon.

Megan looks at Liz. “What is that?”

“Mistletoe.” Gooch seems all too proud of himself.

Liz elbows him away. “It’s a weed. Go away, Gooch.”

Gooch’s pout only increases. “Aww, come on Liz. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

Liz puts down her pencil to keep from using it to stab Gooch in the eye. “I’m not kissing you. Ever again. If that’s what you’re thinking is about to happen.”

Gooch looks like he’s about to protest but Liz’s elbow, firmly jabbed into his stomach, is enough to dissuade him from pushing his luck. Mumbling, he slinks off, already holding up the mistletoe to the girls at the table across the aisle. Of course, they titter appreciatively, pleased to be the focus of Gooch’s attention.

Liz groans, rolling her eyes and scowling down at her study guide. Beside her, Megan shifts and Liz can feel Megan’s eyes on her. And she knows exactly what Megan is about to ask. “What is mistletoe?”

The scowl doesn’t leave her face, even though Liz doesn’t find herself wanting to scowl at Megan as much as she used to. “It’s stupid…” But Megan is still looking at her so Liz sighs. “People hang it over doorways and stuff at Christmas…if you stand under it, you’re supposed to kiss the person that you’re with.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Megan’s expression darkens as she looks over at Gooch, narrowing her eyes.

Liz tries not to read too much into it.

“It’s just a dumb tradition.”

It isn’t until after the bell rings and they join the crush of people in the hallway that Liz realizes how far Gooch has taken this dumb tradition.

There are sprigs of mistletoe hanging all over the place. On people’s lockers, in doorways, even stuck in random places to the walls. Some people are already taking advantage of this ridiculous display of Christmas festivity, kissing or making out despite the teachers’ efforts to break them up and take down all the mistletoe.

“Look.” Megan points to a sprig of the stuff, stuck to her locker. “I guess it really is everywhere.”

Liz feels like the mistletoe is hanging there specifically to taunt her and ruin her life.

Especially because it feels like both she and Megan are looking anywhere but each other.

Maybe it’s desperation at being so close to the holidays but still being trapped in school. Maybe it’s the energy from her fellow classmates, all brimming with Christmas excitement and enthusiasm.

Or maybe it’s because Megan doesn’t know anything about Christmas and is getting to experience everything for the first time in her life. And Liz just wants her to have the full teenage Christmas experience.

At least, that’s the excuse that Liz will use later, to explain why she leans over to press a quick kiss to Megan’s cheek.

It lasts three seconds, at most.

And all Liz can think about is how badly she wants to do it again.

And better, longer, and not when they’re standing in a crowded hallway.

And not on Megan’s cheek.

But, instead, Liz quickly turns on her heel and heads down the hallway, moving toward her next class.

She’s taking the long way but it’s too late by the time Liz realizes this. She’s definitely not turning back, anyway. Definitely not risking looking at Megan to see her reaction.

* * *

 

**5.**

“I feel like this is starting to become a habit.”

Liz hears Megan’s voice but doesn’t look at her, not just yet. Not when she’s trying to focus on making the world stop spinning, when she’s trying to remember how the world looks without the fuzz of alcohol.

Her fingers are wrapped around the edge of the bathtub, anchoring her in place, tethering her to the rest of the world.

Megan’s voice helps with that, too.

Finally, Liz feels brave enough to lift her head, to blink and squint until Megan comes into focus. “Megan Walsh,” she says because she likes the weight of the name on her tongue. “That is an ugly sweater.”

Megan looks down at herself, still standing in the doorway to the bathroom, like she can’t entirely remember what she looks like. Her sweater is a vibrant red, covered with brightly colored pompoms sewn into the fabric. There are pictures of cats in Santa hats and Christmas lights to really add to the overall chaos of the sweater.

“It’s an ugly sweater party,” Megan points out.

Liz purses her lips, considering this.

All she really remembers of this party is the eggnog and the fact that the house is full of Penny’s colleagues and their families.

And eggnog.

Liz holds out a hand, slumping back against the side of the bathtub. “Come’re.”

Megan steps closer dutifully, shutting the bathroom door. She stands uncertainly in front of the tub, until Liz pats the space beside her and Megan climbs in, tucking her knees close to her chest so that she fits.

“This is nice,” Liz says, though she isn’t sure if she’s talking about the bathtub or the eggnog or the girl sitting there beside her.

“What is it with you and bathtubs?” Megan shifts so that she’s half-facing Liz, their knees knocking together.

Liz shrugs. “Good for sitting.”

She wobbles a little off balance, but Megan reaches out to steady her before Liz pitches backward into the faucet. “Whoa.” Megan keeps her hand around Liz’s wrist as she pulls her up straight again. “Maybe you should go lay down.”

Penny is going to kill her when she finds out that her once perfect and virtuous daughter has once again succumb to the evils of alcohol, but Liz doesn’t really care just yet. Not when she can hear the murmurs of Christmas music drifting in through the floorboards and when the heat of Megan’s fingers around her wrist is setting her on fire.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Liz says instead, closing the half a centimeter of distance still between her and Megan. “Your first Christmas.”

Megan smiles, slow and cautiously hopeful. “Yeah. I’m…I’m kinda excited.”

Liz nods and the braid that Megan did for her earlier that evening tickles the space between her shoulder blades. “It’s going to be great. There will be reindeer. And presents.” Liz laughs suddenly as the thought strikes her. “What do you get a teenage assassin for Christmas.” She snorts and then covers her mouth with her hand.

Megan smiles at her and Liz thinks that the rosy color on Megan’s cheeks is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Throwing stars, definitely.” Her tone is doing that thing where Liz can’t tell if she’s kidding or being serious.

She doesn’t have the chance to ask before Megan’s smile falters and she looks slightly uncertain. “Are there…really going to be reindeer?” She asks this like she’s already feeling foolish, already anticipating the answer but can’t stop herself from asking anyway.

Liz doesn’t laugh, though she feels the tickle of it in the back of her throat. She doesn’t explain, doesn’t tell Megan the story of Rudolph, certain the discontented former teenage killer will relate.

Instead, Liz just leans forward, resting her weight against Megan and pressing her lips to the corner of her mouth.

A kiss but still far from satisfying.

Far from what she really wants.

Liz can feel Megan shift beneath her and their closeness and the silence of the bathroom is suddenly too much to bear.

Liz leans back quickly, the faucet digging into her shoulder, the world spinning. Liz looks away before she can search Megan’s eyes and figure out how she feels, if she wants…the more that Liz wants.

“I’m drunk,” Liz says, and it feels like a lie. “Eggnog.”

Megan nods and neither of them are looking at each other. “You should lay down.”

It doesn’t sound like a dismissal, not really. Just a statement edged with disappointment. Like they both wished that this wasn’t the obvious case.

Like maybe Liz isn’t the only one who wished the kiss had lasted a little longer and that it didn’t taste like eggnog.

* * *

 

**+1**

On the TV, _Elf_ is playing, even though no one -not even Parker- is really watching the story unfold. Liz’s eyes are focused on the screen, but she feels like there’s no way that she can really concentrate, not with Megan’s head pillowed on her lap.

There’s a half-hearted fire burning and all the stockings that hung above only this morning are gone, their contents scattered across the floor, along with the boxes and new clothes and toys and books and a few scraps of paper that haven’t yet made it into the trashcan. Liz can hear her mother in the kitchen because Penny is the only one who hasn’t any semblance of energy left after getting up early this morning with Parker and then eating pretty much every part of the Christmas dinner. Liz figures it’s only a matter of time before Penny is trying to drag them all into the kitchen to help her clean but, for now, she’s going to enjoy being lazy.

And she’s going to try to keep breathing even, even though Megan is using her for a pillow.

“I can’t move,” Megan moans, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I ate so much food.”

“That’s because you have no impulse control,” Liz says with a less than sympathetic pat on Megan’s forehead.

Megan sighs. Rather than denying this, she just says, “That’s because food is _so good_.”

The bracelet that Liz gave her is glittering on Megan’s wrist and Liz watches the charms wink in the dying firelight. Only in the South, she figures, can you actually buy a charm of a tiny, silver gun. At least Megan had laughed when she’d opened it, grinning widely as she’d looked at each of the three charms that Liz had put on the bracelet so far, all things she had thought represented Megan. The gun, a single high-heeled shoe, and a heart.

“Because you have the biggest heart I know,” Liz had wanted to say. “And because you pretty much already own by heart so you might as well wear it around your wrist.”

But, of course, there was no way she could say those things in front of Parker and her mother.

Or ever.

So she hadn’t bothered to explain any of the charms at all, figuring Megan would just get them anyway.

Liz surprises herself by saying, “We should take a walk.”

Megan puts her hand on her stomach. “But…so much food.”

Liz shifts, lifting her thighs so that she bumps Megan’s head off her lap. “Come on. I thought you were supposed to be like a badass assassin with all this energy and, like, stamina.”

“That was before twenty pounds of turkey,” Megan tells her. But she stands anyway, pulling on her jacket and shoes.

Outside, it’s dark enough that most of the neighbors have already turned on their Christmas lights and Liz tries to ignore the stab in her gut at the thought that, tomorrow, all of this will be gone, put away like it was never there at all.

“So, your first Christmas,” Liz says as they walk down the sidewalk. “Any disappointments?”

“Yeah, one.” Megan’s answer is surprising, considering that Megan never actually seems disappointed by anything. “It didn’t snow. I kinda thought that Christmas was just all about, like, giant snow drifts and penguins and stuff.”

Liz snorts. “Yeah, well, this is Georgia. So…no snow. Well, maybe in March but definitely not on Christmas.”

Megan shakes her head. “I guess I need to find a foreign exchange family somewhere up North.”

“Good luck finding one who will put up with you.”

Megan laughs. “Yeah, I guess I’m kinda stuck here. You guys already know all my secrets.”

There’s a secret that Liz has been guarding tightly, burning like a fire in the pit of her stomach. The secret that peeked through when she’d let herself kiss Megan’s cheek under the guise of the mistletoe and when she’d allowed herself to think she was drunker than she really was so that she could kiss Megan and pretend it was just the eggnog.

Liz reaches for Megan’s hand, pulling her to a stop. Megan doesn’t even seem surprised, looking at Liz like she knows exactly what’s running through her mind.

And maybe she does.

“There’s something…” Liz swallows, resisting the urge to pull her hand away from Megan’s, to act like all of this is just a mistake.

This morning, opening presents without their father, having Megan’s stocking hung over the fireplace as their fourth instead of her dad’s, had made it feel like something was chewing on Liz’s insides. But being there with Megan and Parker and Penny, seeing Megan’s excitement at all the presents and the cookies and the music had made the sadness slip away, had made it easier to put down the walls that Liz had worked so hard at building for herself.

And admitting to Megan that she needs her…Liz isn’t sure that she can completely tear down that wall. She isn’t sure that she wants to give Megan that power.

She isn’t sure that she could handle missing Megan.

But, at the same time, Liz is starting to learn how badly it hurts to want someone when they’re standing right in front of you.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Liz says so that she can’t chicken out and pull away from Megan.

There’s no mistletoe now. No eggnog. Just her and Megan and the Johnsons’ lawn that is covered in giant inflatable snowmen and the entire lights section at Walmart.

There’s nothing Liz can blame when she leans into Megan and kisses her. Their lips meet, and Megan pulls her closer and when Megan’s fingers slip through her hair, Liz feels like her entire body is electric, alive and vibrating there in her hands.

The kiss seems to last for years. It seems to last for seconds.

It seems unbearably short when Megan pulls away.

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?” Megan smirks.

Liz rolls her eyes, giving Megan a shove. “You know, I think I changed my mind-”

Megan catches Liz before she can turn away, pulling Liz back to her. Liz doesn’t protest, doesn’t even feign an attempt to slip out of her arms.

She doesn’t want to, when it feels like all she’s wanted is to be right here, with Megan holding her close before their lips meet again.

It’s like fireworks bursting in vibrant color behind her eyelids, sending showers of sizzling gold all the way down to Liz’s toes.

Though, that could just be the Christmas lights.


End file.
